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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27288874">Explosive Chemistry</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Offendedfish/pseuds/Offendedfish'>Offendedfish</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>DC Reader Inserts by an Offended Fish [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:42:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,372</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27288874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Offendedfish/pseuds/Offendedfish</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Chemistry labs can be a bit tedious. Nothing laser vision can’t fix though.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clark Kent &amp; Reader, Clark Kent/Reader, Superman/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>DC Reader Inserts by an Offended Fish [14]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885726</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Explosive Chemistry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>You can all blame @birdy-bat-writes for this fluff and @knightfall05x for the amazing mood board. This might feel a little rushed so apologies and Clark is kind of hard to write (ope). Anyway, here is your regularly scheduled comedy.  Thanks again to @knightfall05x for proofreading!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p></p>
  <div class="">
    <p>
      
    </p>
    <p>You met Clark- Well, ‘met’ might be too formal a word for what happened. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p> You <em>discovered</em> Clark during a mundane Metropolis afternoon. Taking a break from your studies (read: a group project that had not been going smoothly), you hopped on to a trail car to go to your favorite sandwich shop right across from your favorite diner. </p>
  </div>
  <div class="">
    <p> The sandwich shop itself was nothing too special, not in a good way at least. It was even what your delicately paletted father had politely described as ‘subpar’ which as far as you knew was the worst insult he could give. Frank- the owner- was, of course, inclined to disagree. You were, on the other hand, inclined to agree with the opinion especially after biting into a raw piece of chicken in one of their “famous” chicken sandwiches. But it was cheap and it offered the best view of the diner across the street. </p>
  </div>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In truth, you liked the food at the diner better. Their blueberry pancakes were absolutely delightful, at least, on Mondays.  But more than anything you found more delight in watching its contained chaos. You’ve watched people propose, get divorced, have fights, and everything else in between. The sheer absurd theatrics of it all captivated you. It was people-watching at its finest. Frank just thought it was creepy to which you simply nodded and nibbled at your sandwich. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As you watched the usual ensemble cast in the diner, you witness a tall, handsome guy with black hair and blue eyes get mugged. Ok, well, almost get mugged. He was a big boi so you weren’t entirely surprised when he was easily able to stop the scrawny knife-wielding assailant. What did surprise you were the proceeding events. To your utter disbelief (and amusement); instead of throwing the guy into the gutter as custom dictates, the buff guy just guided his assailant to the diner and had a chat with him. You chew your sandwich slowly as you watch them talk as if nothing strange had occurred minutes before, digesting the odd comedy unfolding before your eyes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Moments later and a few tears shed, they parted ways. You frowned thinking that would be the end of it and you were about to whine to Frank about how anticlimactic that was. But then it just kept going. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> He got mugged. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> And again. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> And again.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> By the fourth time, Frank sat beside you to watch finally leaving the spot he was polishing alone. Repeated muggings were weird enough but the guy kept inviting them to talk. You choked every time but made no move to intervene, only nibbling at your sandwich and watching with near clinical interest.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> After the fifth mugging, Frank raised a challenging brow at you as you continued to chew on your sandwich. You shrug at him as if to say ‘I’m eating what do you want me to do?’. Frank’s eyes didn’t leave you even as another mugger approached the buff guy. You cut him a look and chew a little faster. For a guy running what is most likely a money-laundering scheme, he sure was noble. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Having finally finished your sandwich, you wave your hand halfheartedly to Frank, your middle finger extended skyward. Kicking the shop door open and jamming your hands into your hoodie pockets, you made your way to the other side of the street ignoring the cars driving past you, blowing and whipping the skirt of your dress every which way. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Neither of them pays you any mind as you approach them, which was just as well. You shifted the strap of your backpack on your shoulder deciding whether to use it. Your laptop was in there so probably not. You decide to christen your new flattops by giving the man a good harsh kick in his nether regions. He goes down with a squeak. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Scram!” You snarl, baring your teeth. In a surprisingly well-coordinated motion, he does, looking honestly scared for his life. You pivot to the guy who you assume is some kind of tourist. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Most people would say that Clark towered over you but the truth was that no matter how tall Clark was he couldn’t really measure up to the height of you. Nothing about you was inherently intimidating, especially as you stand before him in flat tops, hoodie, and short dress, except maybe for your shoulders. But that had less to do with their actual shape and more to do with how uncommonly broad they were compared to the rest of your body.  Some people say it made you look like an angry dorito to which you unfailingly replied with something Clark would rather not repeat. At least, not in polite company. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> You regard him with a pinched brow which makes Clark straighten as you openly assess him. You memorize the angles of his features, all the sharpness and corners of it not noticeable due to the softness of the way he carries himself in a typical hometown boy kind of way.  You note your university’s logo on the edge of his sweatshirt.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> You reach your hand out. “Y/n L/n but just call me Y/n”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Clark Kent” He answers, shaking your hands. You note the distinct midwestern shape of his syllables which explained a lot.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Yanno muggers aren’t exactly good speed dating partners, right?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Clark smiled at the, admittedly, terrible joke. By the way, your eyes flash with interest, he’ll be seeing a lot of you. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Your foot bounced erratically against the metal bar serving as your stool’s footrest. You watched the thermometer with a pinched face and a ticking brow as the mercury in it remains unmoving. Your mounting frustration amusing Clark making him cover his mouth. You fix him with a look and the door actually whistles “innocently” and looks away, pretending to be intently reading the procedure as if you two haven’t been reading it for the past half hour trying to figure out why your solution wasn’t boiling. His baby blues none-too-subtly flicking in your direction. You give him one last scathing look, which he easily glances off, before turning back to your solution. His eyes have been flickering at you as if he’s been meaning to ask you a question. That question likely being ‘could you possibly stop looking like you’re going to murder the molecules in our solution’. His eyes flicker again to watch you seethe and pout at the liquid and it takes everything in Clark not to tease you about being cute. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Bouncing your leg again, you gently turn the hot plate’s nob until the screen reads 1000 F. Clark makes a choked sound, finally tearing his attention away from what you assumed to be a particularly interesting semicolon. Clark reaches over and turns the damned thing back down to 300 F. You glare at him before, violently, turning it back up to 1000. Clark just as quickly turns it back down. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Click</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Click</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Click </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> You two continue on like this for a while ‘til your instructor, pinching his nose, strolls over to your lab bench to politely tell you to knock it off. With a shrug, you two settle on 650 F as your compromise. You, however, continue to glower at the solution while Clark peruses through the next lab distinctly reminding you of someone in the waiting room of a dentist’s office which makes you scrunch your nose and worsen the impatient ticking of your limbs. “Glaring at it won’t make it go faster,” Clark chuckled in his Midwestern sweater voice. You had the urge to pour the hot acid of the flask on to him but you suppressed the urge mainly because it wouldn’t actually hurt and pouring it on him meant starting over and that just sounded tragic.   </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> You place your hands primly on your lap and spin your chair towards Clark. “Not all of us can watch grass grow, Paul Bunyan.” You snip. Clark shakes his head at you, whether it’s from your tone or the nickname you can’t tell. All you could discern was that it irritated him and some petty part of you was satiated the way old gods were when someone made an acceptable sacrifice. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Is that what you think we do in Kansas?” Your first impulse is to say ‘yes’ even if it wasn’t the truth. You thought better of it though. Picking a fight with Clark Kent was a terrible idea, superstrength or not. You were, of course, familiar with Kansas as a concept the same way you were familiar with Mars. Both seemed equally distant, equally alien, and equally irrelevant as such you never dedicated too much thought to it. The last one might have changed a bit with your chance encounter with Clark. You remember him mentioning going home for Thanksgiving Break. You also distinctly remember wanting to ask if you could come along. After all, you didn’t have much in the way of killing time during holidays seeing as most of your relatives were overseas and the relatives you did have here were indisposed either due to work or due to other families. You felt silly thinking about it now and even sillier contemplating how you would explain the special brand of unpleasantness of being bored over the holidays. Maybe you should get a boyfriend- your eyes flicker to Clark but you shake your head- or a girlfriend or maybe friends who weren’t either foreign exchange students or farm boys from Kansas with laser vision. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> You whip your head to Clark who was mumbling something about not staring at the grass. He frowns at you, not finishing his sentence.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “You have that look.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “What look?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “The bad idea look.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “I do not”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Ok, let me rephrase. The let’s do something stupid for science look.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> You huff indignantly. Clark looks unfazed and a little smug. You did not have that kind of look and sue, you’ve asked once or ten times to use his powers to do something ridiculous but this was a matter of importance. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Use your heat vision”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Wha-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Heat vision. Flask. Go faster.” You punctuate each word with a wild flick or gesticulation of your hands. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Clark moves his glasses up and pinches the bridge of his sharp nose.“We’re not going to use my heat vision-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “-Yes, we are.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “No, we aren’t. Do you want me to list the ways this could go wrong?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Relax, my human shield is invincible.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “You’re horrible.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Yup.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “I really can’t convince you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Nope.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “What if I just don’t?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Then I dip out and break into a different lab to get a bunsen burner.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Clark laughs, shaking his head fondness seeping into his smile. It made your heart melt and your face heat. You know you’ve won when Clark moves his seat closer to you. For some reason, Clark always insisted on sitting just a little farther from you no matter the circumstance. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> You two lean in. Clark gives you a side glance. “For the record, I said this was a bad idea.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Fine, I’ll quote you on that once I’ve won the Nobel Prize for Chemistry.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Clark snorts. He removes his glasses, the blue of his eyes shifting to an angry red. It makes your breath hitch every time being reminded just how dangerous your sweet, gentle best friend really is. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> You watch the liquid in the flask begin to boil and you make a noise of triumph, throwing your arms up in the air in delight. Clark smiles at you and you feel a little embarrassed by your reaction but the smile on your face doesn’t disappear.   You both lean back and you toss him a smug smile. He huffs at you amused and rolls his eyes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Fine, not all of your ideas are-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Crack. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Shatter. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Shards of glass fly everywhere as the flask shatters. You yelp high and surprised. Clark pulls you into his arms shielding you from the glass and hot acid. You hiss when a shard cuts against the delicate skin of your forehead. You’re numb as you feel the blood trickling staining Clark’s shirt. Your senses were more focused on the way he wraps his arms around you and how safe you feel despite the graze on your forehead. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Y/n, Clark, are you two ok?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> You hear the frantic footsteps approach you but neither of you pulls away. You just focus on how tightly Clark holds you against himself.  You feel the flex of his large muscles as he pulls you closer. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “We’re fine sir but I think Y/n needs to go to the clinic.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Do you? </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Your fingers rise up your forehead and your stomach drops a little when they come away red. You’re aware that you’re bleeding but it takes some time for the knowledge to fully sink in. Your professor is practically shoving you out of the room by the time you even make any move to react. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Y/n, I-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “I swear to god if you say I told you so I’ll punch you in the face-” You look into his eyes, your voice amazingly calm. He opens his mouth again. “- and if you say I’m sorry I’ll punch you in the dick.” His mouth closes and you both fall silent even as you go down the hall towards the university’s health office which was just a glorified clinic with the addition of counselors and a waiting room with Rubix cubes instead of magazines. Clark doesn’t loosen his grip on your shoulder even as you wait for the nurse to come out and treat you. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> Your mind feels far less frantic than it did a few moments ago. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “I told you it was a bad idea.” Clark jokes offhandedly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> You snort at the remark and glare at him without any real venom. “You really aren’t as nice as people say you are.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Nope.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Jackass.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> This draws a tired laugh from him. “Well, I’m sorry. Why don’t I make it up to you then?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Unless you’ve got a Porsche in your back pocket”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> He winces. You snort again. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “How bout coffee?” You blink at him. “Or maybe dinner? This Friday?” He adds with a hopeful lilt. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p> “Just as long as you don’t invite a mugger to come along.”  </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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